


Losing Faith

by writeitininkorinblood



Series: I'll Pray For You [9]
Category: Cursed (TV 2020)
Genre: If That Kind of Thing Bothers You, Lost Faith, M/M, talk of religion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-18
Updated: 2020-09-18
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:33:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26519044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writeitininkorinblood/pseuds/writeitininkorinblood
Summary: Squirrel always has a lot of questions, but they're not usually quite as big as 'do you believe in a god?'. Luckily, Lancelot's already spent a lot of time considering the answer.
Relationships: Gawain | The Green Knight/The Weeping Monk | Lancelot (Cursed)
Series: I'll Pray For You [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1870960
Comments: 3
Kudos: 94





	Losing Faith

Squirrel hadn’t technically been invited on their little excursion from camp but he’d added himself to the guest-list as soon as he’d heard about it, desperate to get away from all the rules and regulations for a few hours. Lancelot and Gawain had shared a look and known that neither of them were going to be the one to say no, so he was practically skipping along beside them, delighted to be out in the forest. Officially it was a scouting mission, a patrol of the perimeter of the camp to make sure there was no sign of Red Paladins, Uther’s forces, Raiders, or any new addition to the seemingly endless list of people who wanted to cause them harm. But Gawain and Lancelot were walking close enough that their knuckles were brushing together with every step and, if it hadn’t been for the presence of a small child who would endlessly complain if they were in any way romantic, they’d be holding hands. Even so, neither of them would have had it any other way, secretly rather enjoying the endless stream of consciousness Squirrel was treating them to. They’d covered everything from how Lancelot ended up with Goliath to what would be for dinner when they got back before Squirrel turned, walking backwards, to appraise the more recent of his two father figures.

“Lancelot, do you believe in a god? A human god,” he asked.

Gawain tensed. He’d been largely avoiding the topic of religion when it came to Lancelot, not wanting to get into arguments he was going to regret. He wasn’t sure which of Father Carden’s teachings still lingered and was hoping that his lover would start to think critically about them all. If he came out the other side still believing in a Man-Blood god then Gawain would learn to make his peace with that, but he didn’t want it to feel like he was pressuring him to believe the same as the rest of the Fey. He stole a sideways look at Lancelot and found him neither insulted, nor upset, but certainly surprised.

“Why do you ask?” Lancelot enquired.

Squirrel shrugged, kicking at a small pile of leaves that had collected at the side of the path.

“Pym said you did,” he admitted.

Humming, Lancelot nodded. She’d used to ask him a lot about the Paladins, curious about everything from what they ate to why they fought in what she’d elegantly named ‘giant towels’. What they believed and why must have come up somewhere along the way.

It had once been what Lancelot believed too. He looked up and met Gawain’s curious eyes, well aware that he had been distancing them from the subject any time it had come up. Unfortunately Gawain had discovered that putting his lips practically anywhere on Lancelot’s body was an easy and effective way to remove every other thought from his head, and he wasn’t above using it when conversations strayed towards uncomfortable territories. But they had to talk about it eventually, and there was no time like the present.

“I used to. But I don’t think I do anymore,” Lancelot explained to both of the most important people in his life.

“What made you stop?” Squirrel pushed, because one question was never enough for him.

Lancelot smiled indulgently, knowing exactly what kind of reaction his answer was going to get him from the boy.

“For a long time it was what I was told I believed, and when I first thought about it for myself I realised that everything I’d been looking for in a god, I’d already found here on Earth.”

Sure enough, Squirrel screwed his face up in disgust at the overly sentimental words and looked between Lancelot and Gawain for a moment before pretending to gag, still too young to find love anything other than gross. Even when it was two of his favourite people. Especially when it was them.

Gawain rolled his eyes, well aware that Squirrel was only against their relationship when they were being affectionate or sentimental, he had no real protests again them being together. Unlike some of the other naysayers at camp who seemed to revel in their own disproval. 

Lancelot just laughed.

“Yes,” he admitted, “I found what I was looking for in Gawain. But also in you. And in Pym and in Nimue and Arthur and Cora and Kaze. All of you.”

He bumped his shoulder against Gawain’s shoulder and was rewarded with fingers lacing through his because hey, it probably wasn’t possible to make Squirrel any more indignant. 

Lancelot meant what he said. He’d looked for safety and forgiveness and somewhere to belong every time he’d poured over scripture, seeking salvation and endless answers. Finding the Fey, finding friends, finding his place in Gawain’s bed - he has his home now, and he’s never felt more like himself.

“So do you believe in the Hidden?” Squirrel wondered.

“Maybe a little,” Lancelot nodded. “I’ve seen what they can do.”

He squeezed Gawain’s hand. They had healed his lover and kept him safe. Without their intervention, he would have died and it would have been all Lancelot’s fault.

“I owe them everything I am now, so I suppose I have to believe in them,” Lancelot said softly.

“Boy, why don’t you see if you can catch something to add to the stew pot tonight,” Gawain suggested abruptly, tossing his bow to the child. 

Squirrel, always delighted to be handed a weapon, readily ran off between the trees without a second thought as to why he was being pawned off.

“Why did you do that,” Lancelot asked, amused.

“So I can do this.”

Gawain’s hand was suddenly cupping his jaw, angling his lips just the right way so he could kiss Lancelot deeply, soft enough that it wouldn’t traumatise Squirrel it he came barrelling back through the tree line unannounced, but thoroughly enough that Lancelot felt his bones turn to soft clay. The only thing stopping his knees from giving way was the strong arm tight around his waist.

“Oh,” Lancelot mumbled, pressing his forehead against Gawain’s when they separated to remember how to breathe. “I think that’s allowed.”

“As a Knight of the Fey, I say it’s definitely allowed,” Gawain decreed with mock seriousness.

“Careful,” Lancelot smiled. “Remember you knighted Percival too and he might argue with you there if he catches us.”

“Not if he knows what’s good for him,” Gawain growled, low enough that Lancelot felt it coil in his stomach. “I can unknight him just as quickly.”

He pulled Lancelot back into an embrace, trying to convey what words could not. To hear him speak so candidly about his affection for the Fey struck Gawain right between the ribs in the best way possible, a warm burst of emotion. Lancelot had always been denied a real home and now not only did he have one, he seemed to accept that he deserved one too.

Lancelot shifted so he could rest his head against Gawain’s shoulder and hide his face against his neck where it was warm and dark and smelled of soap and cedar. He could have stayed there forever, with Gawain holding him close and Squirrel not far off, surrounded by the peace and serenity of the forest. It was as close to heaven as he ever expected to get and he wouldn’t trade it for anything. It felt like a family.


End file.
